Stuck in the Ice
by ChasingTheWind3
Summary: It's not the same characters or anything, but at least I have the pretty much the same outline as the story East, among many other books like it. I hope my version has a bit of a twist to it though, one that I hope you'll enjoy!
1. Dreams of Change

When she moved, her fingers made tiny tendrils of foggy yellow smoke. In this suspended state of dreamland, nothing else mattered except the smoke.

Twirl; smoke. Dance; smoke. Stretch; smoke. Everything she did created more wonderful smoke. At first, she thought it was beautiful, and it was. Wisps made shapes, and shapes became words, and words formed stories.

But soon, story combined with story, overlapping, creating voids in the thick. She began to cough, choking on all the fog surrounding her. Swatting would only make more smoke, adding to the problem.

Each breath she took burned in her lungs, until the fire consumed her. She looked at her hands, which were on fire, and finally felt the searing pain. She looked, and with her last breath, screamed long after her lungs gave out...

* * *

><p>When she awoke, she faintly remembered, but shrugged it off as a dream. Finding herself in her normal surroundings, she got out of bed and began her everyday tasks.<p>

Wake up Kliff, her brother, and work together to bring in firewood, start a fire, and cook breakfast. Watch as the tiny flame melts the thin sheet of ice on the stove. Kliff would always point out the ice right before it disappeared into water. That was when the intricate, crystalline fingers were most visible.

Together they would stare at the cracks, as if trying to decipher some hidden message. Sometimes she would notice a slight glimmer, a shift, and was instantly filled with dread. She dismissed it as shivers from the cold.

Once all the ice was gone and the water evaporated, she knew the pot of boiling soup was done. Always soup, every day, every meal. There were different flavors of broth, but it was still soup all the same. The hot steam cracked her frozen lips. She smiled grimly. Everything could always be counted on to be the same.

Then she remembered the smoke. _It's just a dream, _she thought._ I dream every night. _But there was something different this time. This dream left a new taste in her mouth when she woke up. She couldn't decide whether or not she liked it. It was almost a burn in her throat.

All this thinking made her miscount the number of steps to the creaky floorboard, and as she stepped on it, the familiar gunshot sound made her jump and spill some of the soup. Now this was something different.

_Maybe things can change, _she thought. But it seemed as though things would not change for the better.


	2. The Hunt

Once breakfast was eaten, Kliff put on his jacket to go out bear hunting. He'd never shot one before, or else they would have had some variety in their meals. But every day, he'd go out just the same, searching for those white silhouettes against white snow.

Just as he left, Rolfe walked in the already open door. "Hey Kliff, off to kill some bears?" he chuckled. Kliff barely glanced his way and walked off, gun in hand.

She stretched out her arms, "Rolfe!"

"My love!" he exclaimed as they embraced. The only warmth either could find in this desolate tundra was each other, and Rolfe would visit every day while Kliff was gone. No one else would be home but them, so they could do whatever they liked. Usually they'd sit comfortably together by the fire unless she had some cleaning to get done. Rolfe would admire her from the chair he sat on, watching her back arch in the effort of scrubbing the creaking floorboards. Sometimes he'd stop her to sneak in an energizing kiss, warming her body enough to finish the job.

* * *

><p>Kliff didn't like Rolfe. He thought him a waste of time and space, but since he made his sister happy, he tolerated him. Kliff continued on his bear hunt. Sometimes he'd actually spot one, but the truth was he could never bring himself to shoot. They always seem so majestic, so kingly. He thought of giving up every day, but the hope of making a better life for his sister kept him going. He had made a promise. And though he may not be able to keep it, he'd die attempting to fulfill it.<p>

As his thoughts were focused on this promise and how he'd raised his sister since he made that promise, a swift and silent movement caught his eye. Kliff brought his gun up to his eye. Nothing could be seen in the sights. A shadow was cast from behind. _Strange, _Kliff thought, _the sun rises from the East, but this shadow is from the West..._

* * *

><p> A knock on the door startled Rolfe away from her. She glared at the door, upset that a noise could break the moment. Suddenly she imagined a smell, a smell of yellow... but quickly dismissed it. Scoffing at Rolfe's foolishness, she gave him another quick peck, straightened herself out, and went to answer the door. To her great surprise, there Kliff stood, bear in tow, a vacant expression. He had always anticipated this moment to be joyful, but she noticed Kliff's mind was elsewhere. She smiled for his sake, and helped him bring in the large, flawlessly white bear.<p>

"I brought you... I've brought you this... We can sell him, perhaps. We can leave..." Kliff's monotone scared her most of all.

"Kliff... what happened?" she motioned to Rolfe to leave the room.

"Oh no, I want to hear this! I never thought you'd actually do it ol' boy!" Rolfe smacked Kliff on the back, hard.

There was a long awkward pause. Kliff wouldn't speak. He wouldn't look up. His eyes stayed downcast, staring at the monstrosity he somehow brought down. _I... I don't even remember how it happened. How do I explain this...?_

The moment was cut short, not by any dialogue, but by a shiver coming from under the bundle of fur. She looked at Kliff and finally caught his eye. They were both thinking the same thing- the stove, the ice. The bear was the ice.

The bear was alive.

And suddenly, it started to speak.


End file.
